A/N: After watching the midnight showing of the Avengers (which was incredible by the way!) I was sorely tempted to scrap this story and leave the fandom alone. However, I promised a friend I would have this out for her to read before she went to see the movie today. That being said, if you're going to read this and have seen the movie, please realize this was meant to be tied in but due to movie circumstances can't really. Timing won't make sense, characterization won't make sense- though I think I started to get a bit at the true Coulson at the end, that part was written at 3 this morning after the midnight showing- and references will be thrown off. Have an open mind while reading, that's all I'm saying.
Warnings (besides what's mentioned above): Vulgar language (the word "dick" has a habit of showing up) and the introduction of two OCs.
Dedication: To Ann. Who inspired a scene in my head that led to what is written here. I hope you like it even though I wasn't able to go into your character as much as I'd originally wanted to.
Phil Coulson wasn't much of a drinking man.
Usually.
After four and a half years of tracking down super heroes –"elite allies" – and securing partnerships through whatever crisis they were undergoing at the time (flying suits of destructive armor and pissed off demigods to name a few), Coulson figured that on his first night off (as babysitter and so forth) he would take a page from Tony Stark and "take a load off."
Now, sitting in a corner booth of a low key bar in New York's east end had not been his initial intention for a place of "unwinding." Lucky for him, the lady seated across from him seemed just as disinterested in the location.
That is, until the ordered drinks arrived.
The young waiter (a boy in his early twenties) popped off the bottle caps in a quick flourish, then left the table to its silence.
Veronica Miller, newly integrated S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and head of Public Relations, was as much a drinker as Coulson himself. This wasn't learned through previous outings with the woman. He read her file. He read everyone's file.
"Aren't you going to have a drink?" The woman nodded towards his untouched bottle as her fingers slowly trailed up the long neck of her own.
"Ladies first," Coulson replied smoothly. His 'nice guy' smile prompted Miller's eyebrows to rise behind the fly away bangs of her dark hair. After a beat, she lifted the frosted bottle to her lips and drank.
Smile widening a fraction, Coulson tipped his bottle towards her in acknowledgement then drank. The corners of his mouth pulled down in a grimace, emitting a soft laugh from his companion.
"We could get you a sweeter drink if you'd prefer. More fruity, less quantity, expensive."
The file didn't say Miller was a tease. Coulson let the musing of how big a tease she was pass on by. He smiled around the bitter taste in his mouth and shook his head.
Miller eyed him a moment before shrugging and lifting her bottle for another sip. She may drink as rarely as he did – the requirements of her job demanding coherence and rationality – yet she seemed to take to drinking like a fish to water. Curious.
She could have a tongue filled with dead taste buds. A bit gross and sad, but no that would have been in her file under 'Reasons for field activity disqualification.' Reason: inability to detect oral toxins.
A modernized jukebox belted old country from across the bar. Coulson cocked his head to the side as a tired voice sang all-too-familiar words. A couple of guitar bars in and the chorus was up. This was where Miller decided to speak. Women. They could never wait for the end of a good song, could they?
"I'm waiting for the dick everyone warned about to make an appearance."
Coulson looked pleasantly surprised by this statement and gave the bar a once over. "Why? Does he frequent this place often?"
Miller shook her head. "Honestly couldn't tell you. It's not like I received a file labeled "Dick" that has all his habits and favorite hang outs."
"Oh, I'm sure you're just not being thorough enough."
"I have come across "Ass", would that do?"
"So you've met Mr. Stark."
Miller cracked a smile. It shifted her entire face so that she looked the twenty-seven year old she was and not the forty year old she often acted like. Not learned from personal experience or from her file, just something he learned along the grapevine.
Sensing it was his turn to run conversation, Coulson addressed the fact that while they (two people who until this evening had not spoken a word outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. business) were at the designated place at the designated time, the master behind the plan was not.
"She's probably working late with Rogers. He will be meeting the team for the first time tomorrow."
"We're all going to see the team come together for the first time tomorrow. I'd presumed that's what this social gathering tonight was for."
"A celebration?"
"A riddance to whatever sanity we have left."
"Aren't you an optimist."
"My face is next to the word in the dictionary; look it up."
The smile was smaller than the first but Miller lifted her bottle in salute. She had no doubt the next day would be the first on the road toward chaos. She held the hope that when they hit the ground, they hit it running. The world could survive with nothing less than that.
An hour later and Coulson's collar hung open at his neck, his jacket lay folded across the space at his side, and he was laughing. Not boisterously, mind you, but genuinely that even he was slightly taken with the feeling. After going day by day with a guarded mask for four and a half years, Coulson almost began to believe he lost personality and had fully become a S.H.I.E.L.D. dog. It was a relief to know that wasn't the case…yet.
Miller rolled her eyes, fully aware he was laughing at her, yet unaware of how much it meant for him. She'd discarded her office coat as well, the purple sleeveless blouse contrasting nicely with her toned arms and bronze-brown skin. If she'd release her dark tresses from the black clip at the back of her head and let them fall carelessly around her bare shoulders, they'd complete the image of a couple relaxing after a long day of work. But she kept it up, therefore she still remained a bit uptight (professional he should say) from work.
Her eyes caught on to someone entering the joint. Coulson took a sip from his wine cooler (yes, he'd caved, but what mattered was that he was enjoying himself) then turned to have a look at the newcomer.
She was tall, the woman in the entrance doorway. And she walked confidently towards the table in black knee high boots, dark blue jeans, and an oversized coat that covered the rest of her form from view. A peach-toned hand pushed back the blond hair draping over her shoulder as she approached the table with a deep sigh.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. New recruits are going through training and the department has been filled with patients since the AM – this drink for me?" Without waiting for a response, the woman grabbed the wine cooler and lifted it to her eager lips.
Coulson shook his head and let his protest slide.
Danica "Danny" Abbot was twenty-six years old and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s head nurse. She didn't reach such a level in her field at such a young age by being considerate of boundaries. This Coulson did know from experience. Whenever Nurse Abbot hit a wall in any part of her life, she hit that wall right back like a raging bull until it crumpled and she stormed right on through. It was in her nature to be so. Just as it was her nature to latch onto people she viewed to be worthy friends – even those who did not wish friendship. Like he did when they first met three years ago. Funny, really, since it had always been his experience that no one wanted to be his friend when all he wanted was someone to talk to.
A satisfied breath filled the air as Abbot slid the wine cooler back towards Coulson and she dropped onto his side of the booth.
"So what have you two been up to without me?" She caught Miller's gaze and the brunette inclined her head as if to say "nothing much." Abbot then turned to Coulson who shrugged.
"Apparently I'm a dick at work."
Abbot rolled her eyes then waved the waiter over to take her order. "Yeah, but we work for bigger dicks so it should be no big deal."
Miller smirked as she rolled a sliced lime between her fingers.
"So you agree with them?" Coulson asked, his attention on Abbot as she raised the wine cooler in signal to the waiter of what she wanted.
"Come on, Phil, I've known you for three years, known of you for longer. It's okay that there's a little dick in you. You should let it out more often if you ask me." Abbot removed her jacket and revealed a form-fitting low cut black sweater that both her companions felt the need to comment on.
"I see you went home to change." Miller spoke.
Mood unusually dark, Abbot returned: "That would require having a home to go to. I changed in my office; I carry some extra clothes in the infirmary."
It took a moment for the nurse to situate herself comfortably in the booth when the waiter stepped forward with a pink wine cooler. Abbot hadn't noticed the color until then. "Pink, Phil? Really?"
He nearly colored at her intent gaze. He cleared his throat and sat a bit straighter. "Shut up, I like the flavor."
"It likes you too." Miller said, amusement coating her tone.
Coulson gave her a hard stare. Abbot watched in confusion. A reference to something in their previous conversation for sure. She shouldn't have left them alone for so long. Which brought Abbot to the reason she had invited the new S.H.I.E.L.D. member to begin with.
"You have all the files on the members of tomorrow's meeting, correct?"
Miller's back straightened and the easiness of the atmosphere began to dissipate.
"I was only allowed the files of Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers."
"So then you have no clue about anyone else?"
"I'm sorry, is this going to be about work?"
"Don't be sorry and this is the only question I have for you."
Coulson looked between the two women. The tension rose as both stared the other down.
Phil Coulson wasn't much of a drinking man. But that was okay. He figured he was pretty much done for the night.